


Cupid and Psyche

by pmonkey816



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, kinda fluffy because i have to believe there can still be good things in the world, spoilers for 2x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1827130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmonkey816/pseuds/pmonkey816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Frankfurt. Germany's fifth largest city and second largest metropolitan area. Cosima had done all the research, read tour books, wikipedia articles, and travel blogs. It made her feel as if she knew something, even though she knew it was a lie. She could know everything about the city itself, every event that occurred in its history, what it was known for, what its restaurants tasted like, yet she still would not know anything."</p>
<p>After all the fighting ends, amid the wreckage of the DYAD, Cosima sets out to find Delphine Cormier. Spoilers for 2x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psyche

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched the finale and it made me so. depressed. Like, I can't even handle that I have to wait nine months to find out what happens. So, I decided to write this fic to give myself a little hope. Is it realistic to what will probably happen on the show? Eh, probs not. But just give me this, goddamnit. Also, I obviously wrote this pretty quickly and all in one sitting, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Frankfurt. She'd found the word long ago, before she left DYAD to fight by Sarah's side, before she was fully cured, before their little clan had found freedom in the toppling of Topside. She'd done enough hacking and ass kissing and sneaking to dig it up, typed neatly in an email from Rachel Duncan. _Doctor Cormier is to be reassigned to the facility in Frankfurt_. Germany's fifth largest city and second largest metropolitan area. Cosima had done all the research. She had read tour books, wikipedia articles, and travel blogs. It made her feel as if she knew something, even though she knew it was a lie. She could know everything about the city itself, every event that occurred in its history, what it was known for, what its restaurants tasted like, yet she still would not know anything.

 

It had been five long years since they'd seen each other; the last time, Delphine had sobbed on her hospital bed, admitting her errors, begging Cosima for forgiveness that was given freely yet barely accepted. She'd proven herself loyal to their merry band of misfit clones, and had suffered for it. Transferred. Gone without even being able to say goodbye. She had never really left Cosima, though, coming to her in dreams and weed-facilitated imaginings. In them, she held Cosima's hands, leading her through buildings: old mansions haunted with the ghosts of science's victims. Sometimes in these dreams she would turn, fingers lingering along Cosima's cheeks, ghosting across her lips. Sometimes she would kiss her and Cosima would wake, already cracked in half, spouting tears, her sobs echoing hollow in her room.

 

But now she was in Frankfurt, standing in the same spot she had for four days, spending all day there, just in case. She had seen someone the week before, someone with familiar blonde hair and an elegant, uniquely French way of holding herself. She'd shouted her name, called “Delphine!” loudly into the crowd but the person had not turned. Simply stiffened, ended her conversation and taken off briskly in the other direction.

 

She thought perhaps she should give up. Eight days of sitting in one spot almost all day was exhausting, and she had so much more of this city to discover. She'd bought a one-way ticket to leave her options open, but she knew from skyping with her clone family how much she was missed.

 

“ _Cos, how long are you gonna hold onto this?” Sarah had asked the night before, running a hand through her hair, voice tinged with wariness. “She was sent there five years ago. She's probably long gone. We need you here.”_

 

“ _I know.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms over one another on the table. “I know. I just have to do this. I have to know.”_

 

“ _You know I support you.” It was a firm statement. “But Kira won't stop asking me to do science experiments with her. I can only mix baking soda and vinegar so many times before she figures out I know bollocks about science.”_

 

_Cosima laughed, missing the feeling of home Toronto brought with an aching intensity. “I'll email you some ideas, I won't be gone much longer.”_

 

“ _I just don't want you to torture yourself over this.”_

 

“ _You're about six years t_ _oo late.”_

 

She  _was_ torturing herself, she knew. It was obvious as she sat in the same coffee shop she'd camped out at four days ago, laptop in front of her but unopened in her vigilance; her undying paranoia that if she looked down for just a second she might miss her. Then there it was across the street, the familiar head of hair and stylish elegance. She straightened up, feeling like a prairie dog detecting a predator, and before she knew it, she'd hopped from her chair, tucked her laptop under her arm and was running. It had been so long since she'd truly run—a convenience she'd never before considered as such. The terror of this person slipping by her pounded in her chest, forcing her legs even faster, building energy in her body that had her bursting through the crowded street and sidewalk.

 

“Delphine! Wait!” She called and the person slowed, taking a short glance over their shoulder before picking up their pace. “Delphine!” She caught them, grabbing them by the shoulder and turning her, finding a face that was entirely unfamiliar.

 

“Oh.” She took a step back, mouth hanging open. “Oh. I'm sorry—Entschuldigung.” She held up her hand in apology. “I was mistaken.” The woman in front of her nodded and turned wordlessly, continuing her errand seamlessly. “Shit.” 

 

  

It was another few days before she got a break; she was looking at flights back to Canada when the call sound for skype began its smooth, melodic chirping. It was Scott. Not feeling particularly in the mood for chatting, she rejected the call. He tried again, and she rejected it again.

 

_Cosima._ A message came through the text box at the bottom of the window. _It's important._

 

She sighed, clicking the green call icon, plastering on an impatient smile when Scott answered almost immediately.

 

“I found something.” He looked so pleased, lips skewed in the smirk he got when he felt useful. “About Delphine.”

  
“What?” Cosima leaned forward. “How did you even know I was looking for her?”

 

“Sarah asked if I could help.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You know I've been going through DYAD's old servers and databases for information.

 

She nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

 

“Cosima,” He raised a hand, grabbing a printout from next to him and holding it up to the screen, "she's in the records."

 

“Whoa. Like, they didn't even try to hide her?” It didn't seem like it should be that easy.

 

“Nope. I guess they thought the distance would be enough. It even has an address for her, according to their records they'd been maintaining a residence for her while she worked for them. There's a ton of info here, phone calls and internet histories. They were making sure she didn't contact you, I think.”

 

Cosima shifted in the chair so that one hip was almost off the edge. “Wait, so does she still live there?” There was a strange electricity to these moments, when the puzzle pieces clicked into place. It almost made her miss the insanity of her life the past few years. The thought made her feel sick.

 

“That's what I can't tell. Last record of her is at that apartment. I called the property management company, but they wouldn't talk to me.”

 

“Thank you, Scott.” Cosima breathed, a smile settling comfortably onto her lips. “What was the address again?”

 

He held up a piece of paper and she took a screenshot, making a note to write it onto paper later. They said their goodbyes and Cosima searched the address. It wasn't nearby, but by car it shouldn't take too long. She settled for bed, but barely slept at all.

  

 

She should have been tired, getting up at eight and heading to the free breakfast buffet. She should have been afraid, as she showered and dressed. She should have trembled, as she dialed the front desk and asked them to call her a taxi. But all she could feel was anxiety pulsing into excitement, starting deep in her stomach and fizzling on the nerve endings in her skin, an electricity she couldn't ground. When she stepped from the taxi, letting the driver leave without even thinking to ask him to stay, it became unbearable. The not knowing and the wishing crashing against each other in her mind, creating cacophony between her ears and behind her eyes.

 

A young man in a silky, tailored suit opened the door and Cosima stuck her foot in between it and the frame, waiting for him to disappear into the elevator before she pulled it back open and headed in. There was really no reason to be cautious. Things weren't over entirely but it was enough that danger didn't hide in trees and stairwells, waiting to catch her off guard anymore. Still, the fear and the habits stuck to her skin like tattoos. The apartment was on the top floor of the ten story building, and as the elevator rose, so did her anxiety. It opened with a high-pitched bell, announcing their arrival with an inappropriate ease that set Cosima even more on edge.

 

She paused outside the door, hearing no sounds, seeing nothing but natural light from underneath the door. Neither of these things mattered. Maybe she was sleeping, or reading. It was a perfectly sunny day, she had no need to turn on any artificial light. Still, Cosima found herself using these things to talk herself out of it; to tell herself to turn around, to go home, that this had all been a stupid idea. She thought of herself, ill, dancing in Felix's loft to reggae with her clones. She thought of how tired she'd been, barely able to stand most of the time without relying on her cane but still dancing, completely unaided, twisting shapes into the air with her hands, laughing at Helena's head banging and Sarah's awkward half-moshing. She knew this heaviness in her limbs now was nothing, compared to her will to push through then. She knew she was so capable of doing this, and she knew she was suddenly petrified of what she'd find on the other side of the door.

 

She forced herself to knock. Nothing happened. Only silence, deafening and piercing. She knocked again and she heard a small shuffle near the door, an inarticulate mumble. A couple of stumbling steps, a smack against the door and it opened.

 

She looked different. So different, it made Cosima's heart ache, made her wonder what else had changed. The longing for a different outcome, a life where they could have been PhD students in love, roaming the streets of Minnesota drunk off wine and one another's lips, overtook her in a sob, and she touched her fingertips to her lips.

 

“Cosima.” Delphine breathed, shaking her head. “I—I thought you were dead.”


	2. Journey's end

Someone was knocking at her door. It wasn't too early, it would be reasonable for someone to knock on another person's door at this hour. In fact, if Delphine weren't unemployed at the moment she most certainly would've been up and about hours ago. But it _was_ strange to have a person knocking on her door unannounced at all. The Germans were not as warm as Canadians had been. In Toronto, her neighbors had come bearing cookies to welcome her to the building (they were store bought, but still). Even in the brief time she'd lived in Minnesota, the people had smiled at her and made polite conversation even when they seemed as though they would rather not. Friendliness was the oral tradition, passed down from parent to child: _stand up straight, always be polite, smile and make eye contact, eat all your vegetables._ Germany was not like that, not at all. It had been quite the adjustment from the warmth of the midwest, from the warmth of Cosima's smile and embrace, to this.

 

The person knocked again, and she forced herself up from bed, stumbling over a half-packed box, swearing at the sizzling pain. She landed against the door with a thunk, and tugged it open with too much effort.

 

“Cosima.” She breathed, shaking her head. Cosima was literally the last person she would have expected. Part of her wondered if Sarah had come and found her, dressed herself up like Cosima in some twisted retribution. “I—I thought you were dead.”

 

“Yeah. I'm here to haunt you.” Delphine felt herself twitch backward, her eyes widening at the girl. This was her worst nightmare, one she had often, that she would wake up in one life and have the other show up, to bear witness to how much it had changed—how much she had changed. That Cosima would turn out to be alive and take her new life as a final blow to what they'd had; proof of how she'd never meant any of it at all.

 

“Whoa, whoa. Delphine, relax. I was joking.” Cosima raised her hands, trying to calm her. “Hold on a second.” She patted at her own body, then the door, exploring each with curiosity and a note of anxiety. She breathed out, smile returning. “Nope, pretty sure I'm not a ghost.” The expression went lopsided, even as she swallowed her anxiety back into her stomach.

 

There was an awkward silence. Delphine knew she should say something, or at least laugh or smile back but she still did feel very much as though there was a corpse in front of her. Like she was hallucinating. She remembered all the documents DYAD had shown her to prove she was dead. She'd believed it because it was so obvious Rachel didn't care about using Cosima as a pawn, throwing her life away—for what? An off-chance at motherhood? Some sick revenge fantasy against Sarah? She wondered how much time it had taken to falsify them. She wondered whose body she'd seen, how she'd looked at the photos and yeah, it looked like her, the body becoming identical—indistinguishable—again in death.

 

Cosima reached out a hand, trembling as she touched  Delphine's hair,  natural brown and cropped short  now , mid-cheekbone, wavy instead of curly in its brevity. “Your hair is short.” She laughed. “It looks good.” She returned her eyes to Delphine's, large and unbelieving. “ You look good.”

 

“Thank you. I'm glad you kept your hair the same.” Delphine was speaking without really being sure how. She felt as though her brain had skidded to a stop, like Cosima had pulled the power plug, and she was running on a generator.

 

“Actually, they were shaved for a while.” She reached up to run her hand over her own hair. “Long story short, being able to pretend to be one another got really helpful at some point. I was wearing contacts for a minute there, too.”

 

Delphine laughed. “I cannot picture it.”

 

“Here.” Cosima pulled off her glasses, grinning and squinting up at Delphine. “Does this help?”

 

“No, not really.” Delphine's grin matched Cosima's in eagerness and wattage and anxiety. “But it is very cute.”

 

Cosima glanced down at the floor, smile fading from a grin to something shy, something so terribly _unsure_. “Well, you could always just, you know, picture Sarah or Alison or something.”

 

“It wouldn't be the same. They are not you.”

 

“Delphine!” A voice called from somewhere in the rear of the apartment, followed by the sticky padding of bare footsteps across hardwood floors. “Wer ist da?”

 

“Wait, Michael.” She called back, turning to stop him before he reached the door. Her worlds, her lives, the ones she'd compartmentalized so neatly, were careening toward one another and she wasn't prepared—hadn't had any time to consider how to handle this. Because up until five minutes ago, she'd thought the old Delphine Cormier was dead, buried in the ground next to Cosima—no, DYAD would not have buried her, they would have cut her into pieces for medically relevant information then cremated her—she was ash in a jar somewhere in the basement of the DYAD.

 

He came up next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pausing at the door, taking in Cosima as she shot him a small wave.

 

“You're one of them.” He said quietly, in gently accented English. “You're a clone.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Did Delphine tell you about that?” Cosima glanced between the two of them, the nipping discomfort she'd become so familiar with returning—the unmistakeable mistrust that had accompanied her love for Delphine, following each twist and turn with careful, practiced grace.

 

“No. We were both working for DYAD. I was part of the research team for--”

 

“Katja Obinger!” Delphine jumped, almost shouted, knowing he did not know her name. Knowing he was about to refer to her as a serial number.

 

“Oh. Cool.” Cosima shrugged one shoulder up, rubbing at the bicep distractedly. “I never met her in person, but we talked on the phone a couple times. She was kind of... intense. Serious. Guess I got that way toward the end, too, though.”

 

His jaw dropped open. “You knew one another? You all were self-aware without DYAD's knowledge?”

 

So Delphine hadn't told him anything. The tension released with her next breath. “Duh.”

 

“Michael, Cosima and I have some catching up to do. Would you mind going home and I will call you later?” Delphine was smiling at him in a way that she hoped softened the fact that he was being kicked out, walled off from her past yet again.

 

“Oh. Is this the one you were monitoring? 324B21?” He asks, glancing between the two of them.

 

Delphine's fire flared in her chest, his words like kerosene. “ _She_ is a _person_ I loved.”

 

“Whoa.” He held a hand up between him and Delphine, taking half a step back. “Relax, Delphine. Bitte.”

 

“No. Please put on your clothes and leave my apartment, Michael.” Her patience had worn thin fast, as it often did with him, and now it had snapped.

 

It was a pattern with all of her friends here, most of them former coworkers at the DYAD that hadn't left for opportunities elsewhere when it crumbled. There was a piece of her life she didn't share with anyone, that they knew through gossip and speculation. The old Delphine Cormier was dead, after all, and the metamorphosis into this new version of herself had been slow and painful and unsatisfying. She wasn't known here as she had been in Canada—as the soft spoken and highly intelligent woman who had been given a position ahead of her years and experience, hand-picked by one of the most powerful men in science. She was not the kind coworker who went out of her way to say hello to everyone, even the lab techs, who never threw around her prestige or position. Instead, she wore it like an aura, in the straight spine and commanding tone that was always scuffed smooth by her accent.

 

In Germany, she was cutting; well-liked by management because she was quiet and efficient and by coworkers because of her scathing wit and blunt honesty. Her kindness did not go away, it simply hardened like wax inside of her and only showed itself in the warming presence of others' vulnerability. She was watching Michael as he dressed, not bothering to put his blazer on or taking the time to button his cuffs before walking out the door, brushing past the two of them with a final, hopeful glare toward Delphine. She didn't know why he bothered, she'd never apologized to him before. She'd apologized enough to lovers in her lifetime, and now she just acted. She allowed herself to just _be._

 

“He seemed nice.” It was so like Cosima, to say something nice and mean something entirely opposite. Sarcasm, she called it. Her words were honed to razors.

 

“Nice is not the word I would use for him.” Delphine sighed, leaning against the open door, shrugging a shoulder. “He is well-intentioned, but ignorant. He thinks he knows everything even when he knows nothing.”

 

Cosima nodded, tucking her gaze down into the ground between them.

 

“Would you like to come in?” Delphine stepped aside and let Cosima enter, taking in the apartment. It occurred to her that she had never yet had Cosima in any place she called home. Often, they would sleep together in the lab or at Felix's, or Cosima's hotel. But Delphine had never brought her home—not even when they were in Toronto for the long months of Cosima's illness. “Would you like some coffee or tea? Water?” She busied herself with her coffee maker, fiddling with buttons, searching out filters.

 

“No, I'm okay.” Delphine kept rifling through her cabinets, searching for something Cosima thought might not exist. “Hey. Delphine.” She turned, her wrists caught mid-air by Cosima to still her. “It's okay. Breathe.”

 

“I thought you were dead.” Delphine repeated the statement dumbly, tears burning in her eyes. If the new Delphine was a hardened wax casing, then Cosima was the sun, melting the facade impossibly fast, freeing her. “I thought I'd lost you forever, Cosima.” She swallowed the mucus building in her throat, threatening to block her breathing. “I would have looked for you, fought to find you again. I would have given anything to see you.”

 

“I know.” She nodded, stepping closer to her. “I know.” She brought her hands to Delphine's face, tracing first her cheekbones, then crossing one to her lips. Cosima's eyes flickered to where they traced her bottom lip, glancing back up. It made Delphine think of the first time they'd kissed, how unsure and scared she was, how she used too much teeth, how robotic her actions felt compared to Cosima's practiced fluidity. Even now, though, she was always nervous around her, in the best possible way. “How about some music?” In the time it took her to get something playing, Delphine had managed to get the coffee maker going, her back to Cosima, resting her elbows on the granite countertop. Cosima's arms surrounded her from behind, settling into the curve of her back comfortably. “Is this okay?”

 

Delphine hummed something entirely non-verbal, a habit they'd gotten into years ago of not needing to speak to communicate.

 

“You've got a lot of boxes around. Are you moving or did you never unpack?”

 

“I'm moving.” She responded, laying a hand over one of Cosima's, lacing their fingers together.

 

“Where?” Her lips tickled Delphine's back through the thin material of her shirt. “You and Michael getting a place?” That tone again, so pleasant and so, so hurt.

 

“Paris.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I got a job at Université Pierre-et-Marie-Curie. Michael is staying in Frankfurt.”

 

“Wow. Sounds fancy.”

 

“It is. Very.” There were so many things for them to talk about, so much had happened. She could explain her relationships, the projects she'd been working on, how excited she was to go home. She could finally hear all about what had happened with Clone Club, could listen to Cosima talk about anything for hours, because mon Dieu, that _voice,_ those _hands._ She traced the outline of each digit with her own, remembering the flex of them against her skin when Cosima was feeling particularly impatient, the feel of them in her mouth, in her cunt and she _wanted_ them. Wanted like she couldn't remember wanting since Cosima had been ripped from her. She turned in the embrace and brushed her fingers up Cosima's arms, impatient, the long expanse of skin more a means to an end than any real exploration, until she reached her cheeks. She did not linger, did not wait. She pushed on Cosima's hips, pressing her back past the aisle into the island behind her, and kissed her.

 

The kiss was different than Cosima remembered. Lighter, more hesitant. Less motivated by blind passion, less invasive yet somehow more curious. Every time Cosima's tongue found Delphine's, it retreated, forcing Cosima to chase it. It was a delicious teasing,  offering levity to the moment that sagged heavy with emotion.

 

Cosima pulled back, ready to say something, to explain how she'd found the  cure in Duncan's copy of  _The Island of Doctor Moreau._ How Sarah had stabbed Rachel in the eye with a makeshift dartgun she and Scott had created. How they'd discovered male clones, how Cal had turned out not to be who he said he was, how Mrs. S and Felix had almost died. How all of them had almost died, more than once. How they were safe now. How she dreamed of her at least once a week, how she thought of her intentionally at least once every day.

 

Delphine shook her head. “No. Cosima, please.” She pressed her nose into Cosima's dreads, inhaling deeply. “I don't want to hear about clones, or DYAD, or science. I don't want to talk about my life, either. I just want to be here with you now.” Cosima could feel Delphine's hands tremble against her biceps. “I still can't believe you're here. I can't believe you're alive. For five years I thought I'd lost you.”

 

Cosima pulled back to look her in the eyes, squeezing her hips beneath the shorts she was wearing. “I'm here now.”

 

Delphine kissed her again, grinding her hips back even harder into the granite countertop of the island. “I missed you.” She breathed, taking in the scent of Cosima's skin, of her breath, all the evidence of her living.

 

“Ditto.”

 

Delphine laughed, feeling  the unique affection  Cosima stirred in her boil over in her chest for the first time in five years. She was still  as taken with her as the day they'd met.

 

“Kiss me again?” Cosima nudged Delphine lightly, smiling up from under her eyelashes.

 

“Okay. But only because you asked so sweetly.”

 

Cosima would have laughed if Delphine's mouth hadn't swallowed  it . Suddenly, it all felt very serious again; suddenly, it all dropped onto her shoulders and she struggled to stand under the weight of it all, under the weight of their history and the feelings Delphine pulled from her. They were never-ending, like a magician  t u gg ing an infinite rope of tied scarves from her sleeve. Cosima grasped Delphine's lower lip in her teeth and she whimpered against her, hips grinding down harshly and suddenly, pulling Cosima as close as she could. Their kiss es were growing rougher,  and Cosima broke away just long enough to say “bed” before being pulled and shoved. It was a blur, steps stumbled in haste, too fast and also not fast enough. They fell awkwardly into the bed together, bodies clanking uncomfortably, and Cosima laughed.

 

“You're still just as clumsy as the first time.”

 

Delphine threw a leg over her, kissed her, ground her hips down into Cosima's until she moaned out her name. “Still think so?” She mumbled the words against her ear, taking the shell of it with her teeth, feeling the body under her tighten.

 

“You've gotten sassier.” Cosima shot back, taking her hips and forcing them down onto her own harder. “I like it.”

 

Delphine hummed into the spot her lips had found behind Cosima's ear, readily taking the encouragement of her hips. She pulled her shirt up and over her head, stood and pushed her shorts off until they dropped easily to the floor. By the time she was back, Cosima had wiggled free of her clothes, as well, and  sat up, welcoming Delphine back into her arms and leaning down to take a nipple into her mouth. There was another moan, something that sounded like it may have wanted to be words, but got muddled on the way out. A skillful tongue flicked across the tip of her nipple and she ground down harder, loving the delicious torture. She'd missed it as much as the woman herself, she realized, the graceful movements, the teeth, the intimacy that pulled both of them closer without shyness.

 

A hand, one she hadn't realized was moving, slipped into her, moving a bit too fast but her body settled into the movement, rocking down, reaching into her. “Oh.” It felt the only appropriate thing to say, and Cosima was uncharacteristically silent save her panting breaths, just staring up at her through thick black frames. Delphine reached to move them, but she jerked her head away.

 

“No.” Another thrust that hit her just so. “I want to watch you. See you.”

 

The words shivered through Delphine's body, and she gave up and dropped her forehead to Cosima's shoulder, hips working until her abs ached and she was leaving bruises in Cosima's arms.

 

“Comme ca. Yes.” She whimpered as she snapped, the pleasure breezing through her body in a rush. It was all about this, about Cosima, about making up for all the nights she'd spent in another's arms, all the nights she'd spent picturing this face, this voice, this unique pleasure. She snapped, yes, that was the word, because soon it was all whistling through her, overwhelming like sticking your head out a car window on the highway and being so surrounded by air you can no longer breathe.

 

She rolled to the side, brushing sweaty hair  and tears from her face,  trying to hide them .

 

“So, you still cry after sex, huh?”

 

S he pushed at Cosima's arm, shaking from laughter and tears. “Once, Cosima. It happened once.”

 

“So you did lie to me!” Cosima laughed, turning on her side to trap Delphine between her arms.

 

But it dampened the moment. It was all there, still, though they tried as hard as they could to quash it. The history, the lies, the circumstances. “Yes. I did lie to you. I'm--”

 

“No. Don't do that, Delphine.” Cosima's lips had pulled thin. “I'll never forget what happened, but I don't want to get stuck in it, either.” She stroked at a quivering arm with her thumb. “Let's just keep moving forward, okay?”

 

Delphine nodded, finally letting herself smile, finally letting herself release. Then, after a second, “move to Paris with me.”

 

Cosima turned to sit, pulling her knees to her chest. “There's so many reasons I can't, Delphine. They all still need me.” She rested her knees on her chest. “And I'm going to the University of Toronto to finish my doctorate next year.”

 

Delphine sighed. “I understand.”

 

“But I'm not ready for this to be over.” Cosima shot a glance at her from the corner of her eye. “I don't have a flight home booked. I want to spend more time with you.”

 

“That would be nice.” Delphine agreed. “When do you start school? September?”

 

“End of August.”

 

“Then stay with me until then.” It was less a request and more a statement of need, and Delphine pushed away the guilt of giving Cosima orders.

 

“Sarah needs me. Turns out, Kira's getting too old for the kinds of science experiments she's capable of.” She laughed, the wistful feeling of homesickness landing hollow because, honestly, Delphine felt like home, too. Wherever they were.

 

“Then they can come visit. I will buy their tickets and pay for their hotel.” She sat up now, as well, wrapping an arm around Cosima's shoulders. “Unless Sarah has a job she needs to stay for?”

 

Cosima shook her head. “Sarah's not really the job type.”

 

Delphine nodded her agreement. “I didn't want to assume.”

 

“I think that sounds lovely. But,” She shifted, straddling Delphine. “I think we'll need at least a few months to say goodbye to this apartment and break in the new one.”

 

“Yes. Sound reasoning.” Delphine kissed Cosima, eye level because of their position. “Je t'aime, Cosima. I never stopped loving you.”

 

“I know. I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, all finished! In writing this, I learned two things about myself: One, I'm terrible at writing short fics. I just want to stay in these worlds forever. HOW DO YOU END THINGS? I DON'T KNOW HOW. Two, this is fluff for me and that's, well, maybe a little depressing. I don't think people are supposed to cry this much or be this conflicted during fluff. Hopefully you enjoyed it anyway! Lemme know, you beautiful, wonderful creatures.


End file.
